


Too Many Orchids

by DarthSuki



Category: Daft Punk, Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Massage, Mutual Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request Fill:  "I thought it would be cute to have like a salon AU where guyman visits to get a back massage and of course Thomas is the one to do it.. *cough*Then it ends with more than a back massage *cough*"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Orchids

He had plenty of reasons to stop there, week after week. Sometimes it was just for a trim, other times it was to pick up some of the specialty shampoo they sold, and anything else that seemed to catch his eye in the duration that he was in the building besides the multitude of fresh flowers that always seemed to decorate any empty space. 

It was after all right down the street from where he lived in his humble, little apartment with nothing in particularly interesting to speak of about it. It was convenient, fairly priced, and had excellent service with him (they’d already gotten on a first-name basis after the third month that he’d moved into that apartment). So yes, Guy-Manuel had plenty of reasons to visit that small, almost passable salon on the corner of the quiet street he lived on. 

One of the workers, less he admit it audibly, just happened to be one of those reasons. He always seemed to be in the shop whenever Guy came for his trims or his shopping, greeting the man with a smile too soft for someone that no doubt put up with plenty of assholes during the day (Guy included on occasion). He’d always greet him with a smile, one that practically melted bones and turned his stomach to a botanical garden of angry butterflies all trying to get out at the same time.

So obviously, that’s why when Guy-Manuel found his shoulders and back aching, he finally pushed himself to go to that salon with the cute worker he liked to get a massage. It wasn’t like he didn’t need one--he’d toyed with the idea for some time, even without the added advantage of having those soft fingers on his skin. 

“Bonjour Guy-Manuel! Mon ami!” He greeted as he always did, soft eyes turned to the shorter man as he pushed the door open into the small shop. Sweet, hand-cut decorations for the coming of spring dashed over the front glass, from what Guy could only assumed were done by the workers themselves or some of the kids that came in. He tried to pretend that’s what he was paying much of his attention to when he stepped up to the front desk. 

“You came in two weeks ago for your hair, Guy,” Thomas said gently, curiosity in his eyes if he wondered that Guy had up and decided to cut it all off--which was a horrible thought at that. “You’re not here to g-get it chopped off now are you?” 

“Non,” Guy said lazily. “I uh--you said you guys do massages here right? I thought you told me last time I was in.” He felt so suddenly embarrassed if he’d mixed something up, maybe even heard wrong since he couldn’t see any sort of massage chairs anywhere out from the main waiting room in the front of the store.

Thomas lit up even more than before from behind the counter (if that was possible) and pointed over his shoulder with a jutting thumb. “We do! They’re just separate from where we cut and style hair, mon ami. Has work been hard lately?” An expression of concern fell over his face as he looked at Guy, who merely pursed his lips and huffed indignantly in return.

“You could say that. Been a bit sore for a while.” He shrugged and felt that very twinge of ache deep in the center of his two shoulder-blades, which was enough to make him wince. Thomas hummed after a moment, taking down his name and phone number as he always did. Store policy, Thomas chirped at him the first time he went, no matter how dead it was otherwise.

After a few minutes of information exchanging, Thomas gestured back behind the counter and the half-wall partition that separated the waiting room from where everything else lay, empty and unused since Guy always came later in the evening. Couldn’t really complain--he didn’t mind being able to talk to the worker without feeling judged by everyone else there for something or another. At least with Thomas, he never felt judged. For his grouchiness, his silence, even his actual lengthy, passionate conversations on the days that turned out pretty damn good.

There was a lot about Thomas that Guy liked. Maybe he should get his number sometime, if he ever got up enough courage to do that then find plenty of excuses to see him at work.

“Ah, here you are,” They went into one of a few rooms that lined down the hall, almost like how a doctor’s office was set up. However, instead of beds that always made Guy shiver (knowing full well he’d probably either have to strip down or prepare himself for some shot they said he needed) he found one that looked plenty like he’d expect for a massage. There was a counter with a variety of jars, oils and thensome and….a lot of plants. 

Nothing enough to annoy him, but like the rest of the salon, they seemed to have quite an affinity of flowers. 

“Not even safe from the damn orchids in here huh?” Guy asked, watching Thomas adorably scramble about for whatever he needed--towels, some of the jars--he wasn’t paying as much attention to what the man was getting as much as his frantic, almost shy shuffling back and forth across the room. 

Thomas laughed, turning back and looking at Guy as if he was waiting for him to bring them up. “Well, they are one of my favorites. I can’t complain--the owners say that they bring a friendly vibe into the shop.” 

“And allergies,” Guy shrugged, but nevertheless took his seat on the massage chair, leaning forward just enough to cross his arms and lean his chin in on them. His brow arched in curiosity after a few more moments. “Do you really need all of that shit for a massage?”

“Y-yeah,” Thomas sighed, turning around and giving his client a sheepish look. “And uh--I actually have to go out and grab something more outside. I swear I’ll be just a moment!” He dashed out of the room before Guy had a moment to get something sassy in edgewise. Oh well, it left Guy to his thoughts about the cute worker who seemed so shy. Always so damn shy. 

...Made him ten times fucking cuter, and holy fuck Guy knew he was going to get a boner or something if he kept thinking about Thomas’ ass and legs. Jesus, those legs--like all of him, so long and so skinny, graceful in all the ways that he himself wasn’t at all.

Guy tried to distract himself with the various rubber bits on the massage chair. Think about...work or something--how that one asshole still owed him ten bucks or how he really needed to get his fridge replaced. How he wondered if Thomas was single….if his face flushed up all bright and pink in bed as much as it did when Guy made him laugh with a snappy comeback. 

Fuck.

Thomas came back in before those horrible thoughts could continue and give him something way worse than a flushed look on his face to feel embarrassed about. Hell, he came back in so suddenly and so sharply cutting through Guy’s thoughts that he didn’t even notice what he even needed to leave and get.  
Probably something stupid, something super silly that Thomas might even forget to use since it was probably the first time a customer wanted a massage or for him to give one (and it would later turn out true), because--

“Guy-Manuel?” Thomas’ soft, shy voice whispered from beside the man on the chair. Guy blinked and sat up, looking at the other man curiously. “....You uh--you need to t-take off your shirt, s'il vous plaît.” His eyes were more on the floor than they were looking at his client’s, and his cheeks were...noticeably pink. Ah, Guy looked down at his t-shirt anyway. Made sense enough, as long as he didn’t have to take off his pants (it was only his shoulders bothering him).

It only took him a few seconds to strip off the shirt, leaving his chest bare for Thomas to see. His eyes were, surprisingly, still averted, though his blush took on a few shades deeper of a color before he started scurrying over to the counter. The first thing he grabbed was a small, folded towel.

“Here,” The man placed the towel on the curved metal bar where Guy could rest his chin. “That’s a lot comfier for you, oui?”

Guy’s only response after laying his chin down was a hum, heavy with how much he could almost sprawl himself out on a chair like that. just let his legs sit and his arms rest on the two bars in front. Just sitting there made him feel pretty comfortable. Thomas arched a brow at him. 

“...Comfy,” He huffed in reply, making the worker let out one of those soft, almost lyrical giggles that he’d fallen into loving so much.

“Well then,” Thomas said, resting a hand on Guy’s shoulder, almost as if he was trying to pick up the pieces for what to say and do as he went forward. “I suppose we’ll get started?”

“You’re the masseuse,” Guy chirped in a playful, sharp tease before closing his eyes. “I hope we’re able to get started.” There was a huff only moments before the curly-haired man replied. 

“And here I thought you were already so comfy that some of that sass was subdued.” One could practically hear his eyes rolling in amusement. But he nevertheless got started, rolling up his sleeves before positioning a few more towels--one under each of Guy’s arms, then one tucked under his throat, just a little more of a cushion with the angle upwards he was leaning his head. 

It...actually didn’t take all that long for the massage to really start making him feel pretty damn good. Where Guy had once thought Thomas’ fingers a perfect anatomical fit for piano-playing, they seemed more than capable of pressing hard, deep against his skin and rubbing at all the knots in his muscles until they relaxed into warm mush. Guy might have accidentally let out a moan every now and again--though one could hardly blame him.

Those fingers pressed just right into his shoulders, thumbs right between the blades with some sort of oil slicking up Thomas’ fingers. At first it felt pretty weird, as if he fell ass-first into an oil slick and slid down the street, but after a while….

“Hmm…” He murmured. Thomas chuckled behind him, sitting on his own chair so he wasn’t standing up for as long as it went on. 

“Enjoying it?” 

“Fuck yeah…” Guy said, his words lingering and stretching out until they were almost a moan themselves. “Your fingers are really good.” And...well, he could have worded that a bit better. If Thomas caught onto the verbal, accidental innuendo, he didn’t seem to respond to it. Instead he seemed to rub even harder against the man’s skin. He rubbed firm, little circles down the center of his back, either side of Guy’s spine. It was as if he knew were all the tense spots were, able to knead them out more than properly with the aid of both those long, slender fingers and the oil he kept rubbing into his flesh.

“It’s vanilla oil,” Thomas whispered, as if to answer that soft little question lingering on the ends of his client’s mind. “Really good for the skin and smells really good.”

“And for a second I thought it was going to be something with orchids.”

There was a few moments of silence. Thomas stopped his ministrations for long enough that Guy outright groaned--not in pleasure or comfort, but from simple exasperation and expectation of what the answer to his annoyance might be. 

“I swear to god, Thomas I--”

“I’m not saying anything!” He laughed, and the fingers were on his skin again, this time gently working over the balls of his shoulders, the upper muscles of his arms. “I’m just...oh your face, Guy--you actually thought we had..?”

“What was I supposed to think when you leave that horrible statement open like that!” Guy cried in his own avid defense, but still had not the will to raise his head or arms because holy hell, Thomas was...skimming those fingertips down the sides of his chest. Then back up. Then down again, pressing a little bit more that time as they almost seemed to trace the muscles on his stomach. For a moment the shorter man started to wonder if that was part of the massage itself. 

That was at least until Thomas leaned himself forward. It was obvious that he was going for Guy’s shoulders again at last, trying to curl his fingers around just right so he could rub out a hard knot of tension right where his collarbone seemed to end but--

Guy stiffened. Thomas’ entire front was pressed against his back. That in itself wasn’t really an issue (besides Guy wondering if Thomas knew about how he was getting some of that massage oil on his clothes), but what he felt against his lower back--now that was enough to make his eyes shoot open. 

Apparently Thomas noticed too--or noticed that Guy noticed in this cycle of noticing and realizing that he was accidentally pressing one hell of a hardon against his client’s back. It wasn’t even something he could have brushed off or tell it off as a bottle or a jar even. No, that was a definite dick right there in Thomas’ pants, pressing up against Guy and making his heart skip a few beats. 

“Holy shit,” Guy breathed--and that was enough to make Thomas shoot back in his own chair, face fiercely red with complete shame because no, no he wasn’t...he wasn’t trying to let that hinder his massage, he wasn’t going to let it control how he touched a client. 

“Je suis tellement désolé!” The man cried out, pushing his chair back until it hit the counter. “I didn’t--I’m....I didn’t mean to….” 

Guy picked his head up from the chair and turned himself around. He could still feel the way those slender hands felt, pressing into his back, the touch lingering more than long enough into the worker’s frantic attempt for forgiveness of what would (honestly) been a horrible situation. But instead of finding himself appalled or angered by the blatant misconduct, he felt...aroused. 

The massage itself was enough to make him question the original intentions of coming to the salon in the first place, the entire activity so blatantly edged between professional and intimate for the whole time that Guy was in there. Well fuck. For all his subtle lusting after the salon worker with the pretty smile and the soft-looking curly hair, Guy was out for luck in finding a better opportunity than what he’d been handed right then and there.

He didn’t hide how he licked his lips. “Do you normally get a hard-on for your clients?” The tone was low and rumbling as it dripped from Guy’s lips, no short of that charm that sometimes graced his expression. Thomas looked even further ashamed of himself, hiding his face in his hands (and noticeably not the obvious bulge in his pants which didn’t actually disappear). 

“N-N-No I...I don’t I--” 

“Just for me?” 

“Je suis tellement désolé!” He almost whimpered again, so far into shame and embarrassment that the haze of red seemed plenty visible past his hands that covered over that pretty face. “Monsieur I’m so sorry--I shouldn’t have--”

“Guy-Manuel,” The man said gently. This was plenty random enough to get the worker’s eyes out of his hands and actually looking at the other. 

“E-excuse me?” He whispered in confusion. 

Guy chuckled, feeling his heart start to thump just a little bit harder when he let his mind start to whip around with the realization of how intricately perfect the situation is. He gets a crush on Thomas, worker at the salon he likes going to--Thomas gives him one hell of a sensual massage and gets one rather impressive boner. 

“If you’re gonna get a hardon for me--which is fucking hot in itself, though I’d work on that shitty timing--you can call me by my name.” His lips pulled a little wider until he was smiling softly. Thomas must have seen the lust that started to swirl in his eyes because a few moments later he didn’t seemed as adamant about apologizing, but he sure seemed just as confused. 

“It’s...hot?” He whispered with his hands falling from his face, enough so that Guy could see those pulled brows and bright, beautiful red flush. There was something about that look that caught the client’s breath right from his throat. It edged on the aspect of innocent, with how much Thomas flushed, how much his eyes looked confused, but his lips pressed together in a beautiful bow shape that just /begged/ to be kissed. And then, to top it all off--

There was that soft, probably confused, whimper.

Guy was on him in a matter of seconds, realizing how much he’d gotten hard in his own pants during the whole ordeal, massage and all. By the time he pulled Thomas out of his seat and backed him up to the wall, they were both breathless, staring into one another’s eyes with different expressions.  
Guy was lust, pure and unrestrained, raw lust. Spoke a lot about him, the blunt, forward man that he was. He saw an opportunity to get what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to let anything mess it up. Thomas looked shy, if only for the moment that he managed to stutter out some couple of words that didn’t really mean all that much anymore. Probably asking Guy what he was doing, what was wrong.

He answered that question quickly enough with his lips, right on that bow-shape of soft, pink flesh that felt softer than most girl’s he’d ever kissed before. 

“You should get your pants off,” The words growled right into the kiss, vibrating against Thomas’ lips hard enough that it tickled. 

“Wh-why?” Thomas all but squeaked in return. Not fast enough--Guy was soon pulling out the man’s belt and getting his fly undone, then shoving them down to his knees so he could get a hand around that hard, hot dick that looked just as adorably flushed as the owner’s face. Said owner squeaked again, even louder this time, a combination of pleasure and surprise that had him almost scratching at the wall behind him. 

“Been wanting to see what sorta face you make when you cum for weeks,” Guy muttered, so lowly and passively that one might have mistaken him for being outright bored with the situation if it wasn’t for his equally hard cock out in the open air after he got his pants shoved down with one hand. 

“B-B-But don’t you think we should be doing this somewhere el-se?--” Oh, that was nice, how Thomas pushed his hips forward and into the other’s firm grip. He didn’t even seem to use his hands for anything other than scratching at the wall. He didn’t seem to disagree with Guy’s hand over his dick right there at all and really--

“It’s kinda hot here,” Guy purred in mock-surprise. “I mean look at you already, Thomas. Already rutting against my hand, backed against a wall and your face is….est beau.” How the flush covered his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears. He even wanted to imagine how it would look across his body, this perfect rosy glow of arousal that was only further amplified by how hard his cock throbbed against the shorter’s palm. He stroked Thomas for a few moments to savor the sweet sounds he started to make before the taller of the two seemed to get the feeling he should reciprocate. 

Those soft, long fingers wrapped around Guy’s dick with such a sweet shyness that he couldn’t help but chuckle with his moan. Their lips mashed together again, hard and hot, so much so that it left both men with their thoughts whirling around fast enough that they were barely a blur of understanding. Heat saturated their bodies, and pleasure in their movements. Hips had gotten close when both had a hand on the other’s throbbing sex, until they were pressed together and with only their fingers and knuckles keeping their dicks from outright rutting against one another. 

And that only lasted for perhaps a few seconds at most, as Guy stopped, tore Thomas’ hand from his dick, only to wrap his fingers around both of them in short, fast jerks. It was enough to make both men shiver and moan, though Guy’s were swallowed up by the sweet taste of skin as his lips pressed over Thomas’ throat. He traced useless shapes with the tip of his tongue up the side of the taller man’s neck as best he could given their different heights (even though Thomas was probably stooped down at that point)--he got higher, higher still until he came to a spot just below the sharp curve of the other man’s jawline. 

He lets out a sharp whine, something that drips like sweet honey from those soft lips and Guy know’s he’s found a sensitive spot. Without haste he attacks that spot, teeth and tongue both, caressing and nipping until the man pressed against the wall is probably nothing more than mush. He sounds like it at least, letting out all these sweet moans in conjunction with Guy’s low grunts, altogether until it’s this beautiful, perverted symphony of intimate noises between them. 

“G-Guy…” The taller man moans, letting his tone start slipping up until it’s just a drawn whine. “G-gonna….” 

“Same--” Guy growls, nipping that spot again on his new lover’s sweet throat. “Really fucking close--come on, wanna feel you spilling in my hand.” He nipped even harder, until he was sure there was going to be a beautiful blue flush of color, effectively marking Thomas with the evidence of their rushed, passionate intimacy against the wall in a goddamn salon. Jesus christ. 

He--he wants Thomas all marked up though, wants him to touch the spot when he looks in the mirror the next day, to remember how Guy pulled those beautiful little noises from his pink lips, made him gasp and scrabble against the wall for purchase.

Guy outright hisses. “Wanna see you--” The words are sharp, cut-off in the effort to keep himself from cumming for just a few moments more. “--see your face when you cum, see those cheeks all fucking flushed up and those lip--...those lips dripping with my name so I can kiss them all down.” 

And that was it. Both men felt the last hard, sharp rush of pleasure down to their cores as Guy-Manuel’s hand came up on one last upstroke so his thumb could smear the precum on the tips of both their cocks. There was no disappointment that sang through Guy’s nerves in either the overwhelming pleasure of his orgasm or the way his name came off so beautifully from Thomas’ lips. 

“Guy!! Oh f-fuck, Guy-Manuel--” It was beautiful, in that soft voice that he was coming to love in a near addiction, full of softness and just as potent sass and quips to his own. He made well on the promise only a few moments before of course, pressing his body hard to Thomas’ lanky form so their lips came together and he drank down every little whimper of his name, felt them drip from those soft lips with almost every wave of hot, beautiful pleasure that drenched both men’s nerves with a sense of warmth and muted happiness, as if it simmered just below their skin.

“....Fuck,” Guy growled, lightly, lazily kissing along Thomas’ collarbone as his hands came up to hold them together, wrapped around his lover’s waist. He found himself too held close, arms around his shoulders, his face pressed up to Thomas’ warm throat to take in the scent of sex and warmth between the both of them. 

After a few moments of that hot afterglow, Guy finally cleared his throat. 

He took in a slow, aloof breath before shaping the words around his exhale. “...I suppose now is a good time to get your number?” And Thomas just laughed--laughed in that beautiful, sweet sound that drew his attention to the man the first time he ever came into the salon months ago. Thomas held Guy-Manuel tighter to his chest, and nuzzled into his soft hair. 

“Of course it is, mon amour.”


End file.
